


Apéritif

by FlameWolf



Category: Chef RPF, Gordon Ramsay - Fandom, Hell's Kitchen (US TV) RPF, Hotel Hell RPF, MasterChef (TV) RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff, Masturbation, Protectiveness, Swearing, Unintentional Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29878986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlameWolf/pseuds/FlameWolf
Summary: A collection of one shots about Gordon Ramsay.  None are connected.  Please enjoy.
Relationships: Gordon Ramsay/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 7





	1. Fiery Temper

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t know and have never met Gordon Ramsay in real life. This is just fiction, for fun and no profit will be made.
> 
> Author’s Note: Small stories to whet the appetite. Do enjoy my offerings.

_ (Gordon Ramsay is extremely protective of his family) _

Moving with a grace most would be jealous of, the lone female at the front brought her freshly cooked entre to the pass. All night, she had been working her rump off so she wouldn’t embarrass the man at the front of the kitchen. Unfortunately, all her efforts were for naught. The sous chef at the front had decided a long time ago that he simply didn’t like her. Almost nine times out of ten, he came down on her a lot harder than the others, turning her food away while accepting others exactly like her own. Still, it wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to.

She had been cooking since she could walk and was well aware of the sexism rampant in the industry. No matter how hard he made her life, she refused to go to the head chef about it. This was her problem and she would handle it with her own strength. Today was no different as she brought up a perfectly cooked, rare wellington up for approval. “Take this back. Its overcooked,” hissed the sous chef responsible for plating.

“Are you sure? It seems to be a perfect mid-rare to me,” she responded, moving a lock of her strawberry blonde hair behind an ear.

“Did I stutter?! Get back to your station and fucking do it again!” he hissed, purposefully keeping his voice low so the man beside him wouldn’t hear.

“Where’s that wellington!” came a frustrated call that finally snapped something within her.

She was tired of this pompous ass dragging out service to soothe some odd ego. Most of all, she was tired of him making it seem like she couldn’t cook in front of her chef. She had worked too hard and too long to be here and she wasn’t about to let this asshole jeopardize that. Giving him a glower, she moved to shove past him to give her food to the chef directly. In a split second, the sous chef was grabbing her wrist and practically standing toe to toe with her. A move that didn’t go unnoticed by her chef. “Oi! Get the fuck off her! What the fuck do you think you’re doing!” screamed and accented mid-tone before she found herself pulled into strong arms.

“Get the fuck out. You’re fired as of today,” spat from above her, his scent flooding her senses and helping to calm her. He smelled of sandalwood and the food being cooked, the combination soothing her.

“Chef, she tried to...,” the former employee attempted to defend.

_ “Get the  _ **_FUCK_ ** _ out of here before I fucking throw you out myself!” _ the man holding her screamed before the sound of scampering footsteps was heard.

Then she was led to the walk-in fridge in the back, her chef shutting the door behind him. Slightly flushed, he ran a hand through his blonde hair, a glowered wrinkling his deeply lined forehead. “You alright luv?” came a tense question, icy blue eyes boring into her own brown ones.

“No harm done Gordon,” she assured, wanting to approach him but knowing better than to do so while he was in this state.

He wouldn’t hurt her but he didn’t necessarily want to be touched unless he initiated it. “I knew it was a bad idea to have you in here at all. Let alone not telling anyone you were my wife,” hissed out of him as he moved a shaky hand over his face.

“I want to be recognized for my  _ own _ talent. Not because I’m married to you,” she retorted, her hands on her hips as she faced off with a man most would fear.

Sighing, he shook his head slightly before running a hand through his blonde hair. “I understand that luv but you allowed him to bully you. I was willing to allow you to take care of it yourself until that donkey put his hands on you,” he retorted with a grimace, anger and deep worry shining in his azure orbs.

“You mean you knew?” came an incredulous question as confusion welled within her. Had he wanted her to show she could stand up for herself?

“Rita, of course I knew. I know everything that happens in my kitchen,” he responded with a slight frown while she mulled over the implications of his actions.

Shame coursed through her at the thought she had let him down, tears pricking her eyes while she met his gaze. “I guess I failed that test,” she whispered in a choked voice, hot droplets rolling down her cheeks against her will. Making a noise in his chest, the chef pulled her into a hug before lifting her chin to place a gentle kiss on her lips.

“For now but if you learn not to take shit off anyone, you may have a chance of passing the next time a sous chef decides to be a dick,” he assured, his bluntness making her laugh despite herself.

“Ah, there were go. I got a laugh and a smile. Now, keep your chin up and let’s go finish that dinner service, yeah?” he asked, bending down to smile at her. Nodding, Rita went right back out into the fire; more determined than ever to prove her place in the kitchen. He place beside the man she loved so much.


	2. Compromising Position

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Some delicious smut for my lovely readers.

She couldn’t remember when she had started working for Gordon but she did know that it had been lust at first sight. His frosted curls, his blue eyes, his melt worthy accent. All in all, she felt more than blessed to be his sous chef. Just working next to him was almost on par with a religious experience. He moved liked a dancer in the kitchen. Smooth and always with a purpose. Despite that, she would never have the courage to tell him how she felt. He likely had so many women after him that someone like her wouldn’t even be on his radar.

Still, none of this stopped her from indulging in some nightly relief. Especially after watching him spend the day chewing someone out. For some reason, that part of him turned her on like nothing else. Many an evening, she had imagined how he would take control in the bedroom. If he would be as demanding as he normally was in the kitchen. If he would be rough, maybe even use that vicious mouth of his to bite her.

Brushing those thoughts away, she forced herself to focus; moving a lock of black hair behind her ear. Today was not a day to space out. They had a full dining room and several of the chefs had already been reamed by Ramsay. If she didn’t want to be next, she had to be on her ‘A’ game. Fishing out her perfectly seared scallops, she looked up at the woman across from her to see stark panic. Dread filled her as the other female told her she needed another five minutes. A statement that caused all Hell to break loose.

Having heard the entire thing, Gordon’s face went a bright red as his temper rose to new heights. “You called out five minutes five minutes ago and now you expect me to delay Ceciliah’s perfect scallops for a fucking mashe potato?!” he spat, voice breaking slightly due to his sheer anger. Tossing down his towel, he pointed a fateful finger at the young lady.

“Get the fuck out! You’re fired as of today!” he declared.

With tears running down her cheeks, the shaken blonde nodded before fairly scampering out of the room. Then he was hopping onto the abandoned station, blue eyes locking on Ceci’s. “They’re fucking raw and lumpy. What the fuck was she doing?!” he hissed venomously before simply getting rid of the whole pan and starting again. Knowing that was it for her scallops, the brunette tossed them before oiling her pan again and getting the heat back up.

“How long?” she asked, needing to know when to drop the delicate shellfish.

“Five minutes. Drop your scallops when I have two left,” came a response.

After that, the service went like a dream. All entrees made it up smoothly and they even made it past dessert. Not that it helped Gordon’s mood. With anger and disappointment written on his lined features, he had the kitchen clear down for the night. Once that was done, Ceciliah walked out of the restaurant and to her car. It would be a drive to the hotel and she wanted to get going early. Though, she had to wonder if this place was even worth saving. None of the previous employees had made it past dinner service and the owners still hated the new menu. Sighing, she revved her engine to life and drove off.

Opening the door to her temporary room, the exhausted femme closed the door behind her before sitting on the bed with a sigh. As tired as she was, her body would need her nightly stress relief to sleep. Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have fun with it. Slipping off her shoes, she got to her feet and closed her eyes. In her mind, Gordon was on the bed behind her. Just as exhausted and in need of a release. His hair is slightly tousled and in his eyes, a weary smile on his face as he bids her to strip for him. “Yes chef,” she whispered compliantly, desire already rising within her as she slowly started to lift her shirt.

With a single, smooth motion, she removed her shirt and bra; the phantom Gordon behind her providing sounds of appreciation. Then she was hooking her hands into her jeans and panties and pulling them down, making sure her butt was facing her imaginary partner. She could almost hear his groan of appreciation. The figment commented on how wet she was before commanding her to lay on the bed for him. Obediently, she laid on her back; sighing as her own hands on her body turned into his.

He told her how lovely she was. How much he wanted her right now. A warm hand moved to her junction while the other began to play with a sensitive breast. Soon, fingers were dipping into him; eliciting a sigh of his name. She imagined a soft chuckle and a kiss as he teased her, fingers dancing around where she needed them most. “Gordon, please,” she mewled, only to hear an actual chuckle from a door adjoining the next room. Eyes snapping open, she saw the subject of her fantasies giving her an odd look.

Blushing hotly, she reached for the blankets under her; enveloping herself into a small cuccoon as her green eyes glared at him. “What are you... Why are you...?” she stammered, doing her best to ignore the signals her lust driven body was sending to her brain.

“I took a room next to yours to make sure you would be safe. I thought I heard my name so I came over to see if you needed... help,” purred out of him, blue eyes moving over her in an assessing manner.

“I can see that you do but not in the way I expected,” he continued, voice husky as he began to move into the room and toward the bed. His eyes never left hers as he walked, shining with an emotion that made her shudder down to her toes.

“Now, luv, would you like me to stay and fulfill this fantasy or would you like me to fuck off?” rumbled his accented mid-tone and her eye unconsciously moved to the crotch of his pants.

An outline stood out in sharp relief, taking her breath away. Looking up at him, she could almost see a pleading there. Taking a breath, she allowed the blanket to drop. Then he was covering her, lips devouring hers as his hands fumbled with his clothes. “Lay back and let me take care of you,” growled a command that had her smiling.

“Yes chef,” came a breathy reply before she did just that.


End file.
